Page 51 of Burn
He licks his lips. “I like sleeping next to you.”
“Because it helps you on the track?”
“Sure. That too.”
“Yeah.” I flip over so I’m not looking at him. My tone is a bit frosty, and so is my body language. For some reason, I’m irked that he’s sleeping with me because it might give him an advantage while driving. Even though it was my idea.
He scoots closer to me, and I feel the heat of his body pressing into mine. He wraps an arm around me. “The truth is a lot more complicated, Lily.”
“Don’t you think we should talk about it, eventually?” I thread my fingers into his.
“Weren’t you the one who said you didn’t want to rehash our past?” His lips are dangerously close to my neck, and wave after wave of need is washing over me.
“Yeah.” That was stupid, in retrospect.
“Maybe we should talk about it after the race tomorrow. Before this goes any further.” His voice is heavy with sleep. It’s already late, later than he likes to go to bed the night before a race.
“Okay, tomorrow,” I say softly, as I melt into his body.
◊
I’m wide awake at six thirty but don’t dare stir because I know that on race days Max doesn’t get up until seven. This extra half hour allows me to snuggle into his arms and exist in my cocoon of happiness.
But my overactive mind takes over, wondering what will happen after today. Will we be “sleeping” together before every practice, qualifying, and race from now on? Am I merely another of his support staff? He has masseuses, sleep specialists, nutritionists, and now a personal cuddler.
This thought makes my mind wander as I recall a TV show I once watched on professional cuddlers, who hug and sleep next to people for therapeutic reasons. My nose wrinkles at the idea. Gah. I can’t imagine spooning with strangers. I snuggle deeper into Max’s embrace.
I was even hesitant to sleep next to most of the men I’ve had sex with, and usually got out of it by saying I had early meetings. Well, most men other than Max, which should be a good indication that I’m potentially in deep emotional quicksand here. He’s the only guy I’m truly comfortable being this close to. I’d tried with other men and had even enjoyed sex, but afterward I hadn’t wanted to cuddle, for various reasons. One guy smelled funny; another guy had scratchy hair on his legs. A third breathed through his mouth with a weird whistling sound when he was asleep.
But Max feels so perfect next to me. Warm and strong. Protective and sexy. Familiar yet exciting. I let out a long, satisfied breath through my nose.
Max nuzzles my neck with his lips, sending a shower of desire through me. “Mmm, good morning, Mausebär.”
It’s hard not to grin when he says that word. Mausebär. When I first heard him call me this I was so confused and asked a million questions.
“Did the Germans run out of cute baby animals to use as nicknames?” I ask. It’s something I used to say seven years ago to make him laugh.
Why he’s treating me like he used to when we were together is a mystery, but I don’t want to question it, or anything really, hours before a race. It all feels too familiar, too perfect.
He laughs and tickles my belly.
“Good morning,” I whisper.
He skims his fingers over my arm and takes my hand in his, twining his fingers into mine and hugging my midsection.
“How did you sleep?” I ask.
“Like a milk-drunk baby.” His breath is warm on my neck, and goose bumps flare on my skin.
We both laugh, and I roll over to stare at him. He brushes hair back from my face.
“You’re going to have an amazing race today,” I tell him.
He seems to be paying attention to my words, but with his eyes fixed on my lips, I don’t think he hears anything coming out of my mouth. The sun beaming through a crack in the curtain casts a brilliant blaze to his blue eyes, and I can’t help wondering if he can see the need and desire coursing through me; if he can feel my heart hammering against my chest.
“I want to kiss you.” It’s uttered as a statement, but knowing Max, it’s a question. He wants to know if it’s okay. It is most definitely okay, but my hyperactive, anxious mind has questions. My heart and other parts ignore the brain, though, and send up a resounding cheer.
My mouth opens, then closes. “If we kiss, I don’t know if we’ll stop. You never had sex on race days before.”